Skating Through Life Together

I met Tonya, the person that would become my soulmate, my best friend, my wife, the mother of my children, about the same time that it was announced that I was gay.

Let me explain.

I had just started teaching at Roosevelt Middle School in Monticello, Indiana. I graduated in December and was stepping into my teaching role in January. I taught seventh grade math. Tonya taught seventh grade Language Arts in the classroom adjacent to mine. Tonya and I, along with other teachers, met over the Christmas break. She was dressed in black from head-to-toe: black sheath, black tights, black lace-up Dr. Martens. After that first encounter, if you would have asked me to describe her, I would have said she’s pleasant, short, a fan of coffee, a little artsy, a little overwhelmed, tired, and definitely alternative. Alternative was the new label at the time that described people that didn’t dress or behave in a way that aligned with the mainstream. It was also the word that had become a musical genre a few years earlier for bands that were just emerging from the underground, like Pearl Jam, Nirvana, and The Smashing Pumpkins. Although I loved alternative music, the alternative look - especially mixed with lots of black -- was a little freaky and scary to me. So, although I did think there was something an attractive about her, let’s just say I didn’t see this person as the mother of my future children.

The first week of teaching was tough for me. I had pictured my students sitting on the edge of their chairs waiting to hear my brilliant ideas about math and laughing at my subtle, dry-witted jokes. Instead, they really didn’t seem all that interested in any of my ideas about math and - even worse - didn’t think I was particularly funny. But, I was confident I could win them over. In fact, I learned that there was a roller-skating party at the end of school on Friday that most of the students would be attending as a reward to some incentive that had been offered. Chaperoning this might be a good way to connect with the students and a helpful start in building that necessary positive rapport. Right as we were ready to head to the roller-skating rink, one of my friends from college, Tommy Berry, stopped by the school to see how I was doing and to see if we could celebrate surviving a week of teaching with a few drinks. Since that wasn’t an option at that very moment, I invited him to join us at the roller-skating rink so we could catch up some there and grab drinks afterwards. So, he did. We talked at the roller skating rink. We even both skated. The students seemed to have fun and so did we. All seemed great. Until Monday morning.

On Monday morning, my assigned teacher mentor, Candice Briney, asked to talk with me. She asked me how the skating went. I said it was fun and talked about some of the activities. She asked if a friend of mine came with me. I said he did and started to apologize if he was supposed to pay for his skating. She flatly said, “It’s OK he didn’t pay. I just want to let you know what the students are saying this morning. They said Mr. Fischer brought his boyfriend rollerskating with him and they were skating holding hands together.”

I was speechless. I had spent my college preparation learning instructional strategies, curriculum, higher level mathematics, psychology, and much more. But, never in all that training, was I taught how to “in” myself. At the time, I’m ashamed to admit, I also was probably a bit homophobic and too insecure to accept a label that was inaccurate, but also irrelevant, to my effectiveness. So, after sitting in disbelief for a moment, I said, “We weren’t holding hands, and I’m not gay.” Trying to add proof, I shared that Tommy was married with a kid. Candice listened and was understanding and supportive of me being a heterosexual.

But, I left her room thinking, what do I do with this information? How do I address a very personal, delicate topic with a room full of seventh graders that I barely knew. Do I start each period saying something like, “Today we are studying how to add fractions by finding common denominators. And, speaking of that, the guy that was at the roller-skating rink and I have a lot in common, but we are not combining like terms, if you know what I mean. Uh, what I mean is you know how we talked about different geometric shapes the other day? Well, I find concave and convex polygons pair better together. Not that two convex shapes couldn’t get along or go together…. Or concave shapes for that matter… And, not that anything is wrong with that... I personally just get uncomfortable when two Convex shapes are overlapping… But, now that I mention that… I also get uncomfortable picturing some Convex and Concave shapes overlapping…. And, after all, if the Convex shapes seem happy, why should I care? My point, though, is I like Concave shapes. Some of you may still be figuring out your own geometric preferences. That’s OK. I am here to support you either way. And, by support, I mean please talk to your parents about it, not me. But, if you need help adding your fractions, I’m your guy. Are there any questions?”

Or, maybe, I thought I should just put a picture of some random female on my desk and pretend she’s my girlfriend. “Yes, her name is Maybelline. I met her through her cousin Maybelieve. Yes, she’s wonderful. I hope we both, uh, I mean you get to meet her soon.” Or maybe, I should somehow casually work my ex-girlfriend into a conversation. Or, maybe, I should dress a little sloppier and point out again that I am coaching basketball and tennis. Hmm… Maybe just mention the basketball part.

Really none of the options seemed great. I had no idea how to talk about it and also hated for the elephant in the room to start stomping on all my lessons. So, I started the first period without a game plan. As the students came into the room, I greeted them and found myself wondering if I was emitting gaydar at that moment. Before the bell rang, there was the common chatter among the students and I thought maybe it was best to just leave it unaddressed, until a girl after talking with a bunch of friends asked above the morning noise, “Mr. Fischer, do you have a girlfriend?” And, in an instance, the entire room grew silent and all eyes focused on me.

So, I took a deep breath, and said, “No, I don’t. But, thanks for asking because it came to my attention that a rumor has been spreading.” And, I proceeded to explain how the rumor wasn’t true and spoke about the damage that rumors can cause - not just this one but others. I asked how many of them ever had something that others shared about them that wasn’t true? All the hands went up. And, as the conversation unfolded, for the first time, I found the students warming to me, trusting me, respecting me. They still didn’t share my love for math. They still didn’t think I was funny. Some probably still thought I was gay. But, most genuinely seemed to appreciate that I was honest with them, vulnerable with them, and that I was there to support and care for them, but that I also needed their help not just with this situation, but really with anything we might tackle in the classroom.

As the year progressed, I also spent more time with Tonya. Even after this incident, I continued to struggle with first-year teacher issues. Tonya became a supportive ear and also someone that was willing to admit that she was facing her own challenges. (And, BTW, for any students I had those first few years of my teaching career, I”m sorry. I hope I didn’t screw you up too badly.) I quickly didn’t see her as this scary alternative teacher, but as someone with a big heart and warm smile.

We started taking classes at Purdue that summer and drove together and spent a lot of time together. I remember in one of our classes, there was a moment that someone said something that wasn’t particularly funny, but struck my funny bone nonetheless. No one else was laughing, but I was shaking uncontrollable trying to hold in my outburst. Meanwhile, in the back of the class I noticed that Tonya also was unable to contain her internal laughter and started a hearty laugh that I took as permission to let out my giggles that had been oozing out my ears and causing me to sweat from the challenge of staying composed. In the end, it still ended up being an awkward moment, with only the two of us laughing. But, that became a moment that I realized that this was someone that shares my warped sense of humor and was clearly someone I needed to spend more time with.

So, I started cooking chickens on a little propane grill and invited her over to my apartment to eat chicken and watch Indiana Pacer games. We would talk about school, politics, religion, and watch “character-driven” movies that I thought were boring. And, as we did, I quickly learned that she was incredibly smart, cared deeply about creating a better world for others, and had a range of interest way wider than mine. She didn’t just bring me laughter and joy and comfort and support when I needed it, she disagreed with me, challenged me, and convinced me to see a world in a way that was much more diverse, complicated, bigger, and more beautiful than the lenses I had been wearing.

Quickly my physical attraction for her grew, much sooner than her to me. But eventually my charm - or chickens - began to win her over, because we became more than friends. Although I will never forget our first kiss, I’ll leave those details out of this story. For me, and her, I don’t think the attraction was binary, where it was off than on. Instead, I felt like an electromagnet with someone steadily increasing the amps to pull me closer. The more time that I spent with her, the more I wanted to be with her. At first, it was a force that I questioned would last. I thought perhaps it was attraction out of convenience. We were just two young teachers that needed each other. I even made the decision to move away from her to take a job back in my hometown because she didn’t seem as drawn to me as I was to her. But, the force kept increasing. And over time, I found the force absolutely irresistible.

She had become my best friend, my Buddy, as I still call her today. The person that knew me more than anyone. I had been told that relationships are hard, but honestly this felt easy. She just “fit me.” I didn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t or feel like I was trading in something to be with her. She made me happy and continued to make me a better person. She was the first person I wanted to see to share a funny story, to discuss the plot of a movie, or to discuss the position of a new politician. She made both good and bad days seem better.

So after some planning, on July 20th, 2002, we woke up early on the Big Island of Hawaii and took a difficult trek across some lava rock and dove into a tide pool to go snorkeling. I remember thinking then that whether life was rough and hard to navigate like the lava rock or as refreshing and peaceful as the tide pool, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this person. Later that afternoon we got married.

I often think about our relationship from an outside perspective and giggle thinking about that “gay math teacher” and “alternative language arts teacher” getting hitched. I’m sure we didn’t seem like a likely couple. And, yet, nothing I’ve ever done ever felt so natural. We’ve been blessed to share 16 years together inside the tide pool as of this writing. And as I face the battle for my life against cat sores stumbling on ragged lava rocks trying to move forward, there is no one else I’d rather have by my side on this journey than Tonya.

I don’t claim to be an expert on love or relationships. But, I think the healthiest relationships are ones that just seem to fit. Since I considered using geometric shapes to explain my sexual preference to my students, it feels only fitting to share my view of love using the same analogy. You see, when Tonya and I met, I was an equilateral triangle. I was a simple, but steady figure that was a reliable building block. Tonya was a hexagon, a shape with considerably more sides or perspectives in how she viewed the world. She made me better a person by bringing out a zest for travel, appreciation of different cultures, and broadening of interests. I would like to think I made her better by being a practical voice of reason, source of laughter, and endless optimist during difficult situations. We didn’t just become the sum of our parts, forming a 9-sided polygon. Our relationship feels more like a tessellation, like the image below, where an unexpected, but beautiful new pattern emerges.



We didn’t have to work hard at forming our tessellation. It just began to emerge, naturally, organically. Certainly we have experienced forces - like having kids, taking on new financial obligations, and facing new life challenges, that cause our shape to bend and warp a bit. But, even during those times, we know that we are a team; we are a tessellation. We are no longer just a triangle and a hexagon.

So, to my daughters and future grandkids, and really anyone that maybe one day be seeking a committed relationship, I offer these questions to gauge if a person your dating might be “the one”.

1. Does the person make you happy? Does the person make you smile, make you laugh, make you feel joy when you are together?
2. Does the person make you a better person? Does the person stretch your interests or complement your weaknesses? Do they make you a more thoughtful, kinder, fuller person?
3. Is this the person you want by your side during the best of times and worst of times? Life will certainly continue to bring you surprises. Is this the person you want with you during that journey?
4. Does this person “fit you?” Are you able to be yourself when you are with the person and do you connect with each other easily, naturally, almost effortlessly. 

If the answer is "yes" to all four, you may have a keeper. But if the answer is “no” to any of these questions, this may not be the person for you. Life is too short and too difficult on its own to feel like you are carrying a burden or weight of a bad relationship through that journey. When you do find that person that’s right for you, which I hope you do, lace up your roller skates, hold hands as tightly as possible, be ready and willing to help each other up when you fall, but most of all, smile, laugh and enjoy the ride.